


A Touch of Trouble

by the_forgotten_friend



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, Dr. Castiel, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mystery, SUPER SLOW BUILD, Slow Build, Stubborn Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-05-07 07:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14666037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_forgotten_friend/pseuds/the_forgotten_friend
Summary: It's said that a single touch was all it took to find your soul-mate."You'll just know," they all said.Castiel claimed he was happy being alone, well, single. There were a few who entertained his evenings, but he had never felt that 'spark' with anyone. Until one day....





	1. Chapter 1

I dropped my card on to the counter in front of the register, turning my eyes back to my phone. I could hear the soft beeps from the card reader, and soon the black rectangle was being pushed back towards me. I blinked hard and slid my phone in my pocket, signing the small slip of paper and grabbing my coffee before I turned away.

"Have a good day!" the blond girl called after me.

I waved, not looking back. The annoyance was clear in her voice, but I wasn't in the best mood either. The short walk to work was a blur, and before I knew it I was standing in front of the employee lockers at Holy Cross Hospital. I yawned and rubbed my eyes with me free hand.

"Late night?" came a sing-song voice from behind me.

I turned to see little Charlie Bradbury standing behind me, her red hair glowing in the fluorescent lights.

"You do realize this is the men's locker room, right?" I grumbled.

She shrugged, "And? I'm gay, its not like I'm in here hooking up. I'm here to annoy my favorite resident grouch."

I rolled my eyes and pulled my own coat out of my locker, tucking my tan trench coat safely in my locker. The white, starchy lab coat always felt odd to me. Too stiff, too white. I was already counting down the minutes until I could slide the worn denim back on.

Charlie wasted no time in tugging me away from my locker by my elbow, chattering away.

"So, night crew didn't do that great cleaning the rooms, so I've got our lovely day shift on it. Dr. Jones is waiting to hand you all of the overnight entries and Veronica is prepping -"

I zoned out as we walked through to the Emergency department. My mind drifted to the night before, though I tried to stay focused. Being the emergency doctor in Chicago required a fair amount of attention. Sure, I had a great team of doctors with me, but I would be useless if I was too busy thinking about Meg Master's dark, soft hair brushing across my face...

I felt the usual pang of... some unpleasant emotion I'd never really been able to place ever since puberty. My brother always teased that I was lonely, though I didn't see how I could  _be_ lonely with my evening activities...

Charlie snapped her fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to the too-bright Emergency hall and my too-white coat. I blinked slowly at her.

"You really are out of it, huh?" She tried to keep her voice light, but I could hear the underlying concern.

"I'm fine, Charlie," I snapped, a little more harsh than I meant.

She snorted, unaffected by my tone. I couldn't help but smile at her attitude. I opened my mouth to say something, but all conversation and thought processes were lost at the sound of the ambulance pulling in to the bay. Charlie and I rushed over as the large, imposing shape of Benny Lafitte climbed out of the driver's seat.

"Twenty-five year old male, found unconscious in an alley downtown. Heart rate and respirations are normal, but his ribs are grinding together where they've been broken. Looks like there was a scuffle of some sort and he got jumped. His name is Dean Winchester, his family has been notified." He drawled.

There was a muffled yell and a crash, and just as we turned back to the ambulance the door flew open and a dark form landed feet first on the polished white floor. 


	2. Chapter 2

Benny had his hand out, palm up, like he was approaching a wild animal, which in this case was pretty accurate. The man who had literally  _exploded_ out of the ambulance landed square on the balls of his feet like he'd rehearsed it, or just had lots of practice. His boots hit the floor with a heavy  _thud_ and dislodged dirt on to the white floor. He was still slightly crouched, arms braced to swing as his bright green eyes darted around the emergency department. I didn't think eyes could  _be_ so bright, not the way this place sucked all the color and excitement from everything, but yet here we were. The short sandy blond hair of Dean Winchester was stuck out in all directions, and his broad chest heaved as he looked around at the gathering of hospital personnel. 

"Dean," Benny began, "Imma need you to calm down just a bit, brother."

Benny's thick Louisiana drawl captured Dean's attention, and those bright eyes locked on to Benny's slowly approaching form. His brow furrowed for a moment.

"What am I doing here, Benny?" His voice was hoarse, like he had been yelling. "You know-"

"I know, but you were in bad shape," Benny relaxed, but only a little.

Dean seemed to grow more tense. His breath was coming in short gasps, though if his ribs were broken I could understand why.

"Mr. Winchester," I started.

Those eyes turned to me, and a felt an uneasiness stir in my chest. Even from ten feet away, those eyes glowed like summer sun streaming through leaves. Even with the dark bruise forming along his strong jaw-line, Dean was  _gorgeous._ I fumbled to grasp what I was about to say. I had to look down, focusing on his muddy boots, before I could continue.

"Benny says you seem to have some broken ribs. If you would please, let us examine you and tape you up, at least so you can breathe better," I said to the boots.

"I can breathe fine," he snapped, "Don't need some boy-genius doctor to charge me out the ass for some first aid I can do myself. Seriously man, are you even old enough for med school?"

I heard a surprised snort from Charlie, and felt heat creeping up my neck. I didn't look up. Who knew boots had such a smart mouth?

"Mr. Winchester, I'm just trying to do my job. You were brought here-"

"Against my fucking will!" Dean growled, "Benny knows better than to bring me here. I don't need your he-"

He stopped short, and the boots I was staring at twitched, and I looked up in time to see his knees buckle as he collapsed. Benny lunged and caught him under the arms, though he seemed to intentionally let his knee crack against the hard tiles. His head rolled forward, and Benny flashed me an almost apologetic grin.

"Sorry, Dr. N, he gets real pissy when he gets his ass kicked. Where we goin' with this?" Benny nodded toward the unconscious form in his hands.

I almost missed the brief gleam of a needle in Benny's hand. I lifted an eyebrow at him, but gestured towards Room 2. No one else seemed to notice, or maybe care, that Benny had just knocked out a patient. Though they seemed to know each other, and most of the day time hospital crew and EMTs were well acquainted. Chicago was large, but apparently neighborhoods stuck together. As he dragged Dean to the room, I followed behind with Charlie tagging along beside me, punching some info in to the Ipad we used for charts. Much simpler system, but I always seemed to fat-finger the keys. So, I let her do most of the data entry.

"Do you know him?" I asked the back of Benny's head.

He turned slightly, "Yeah, Dean's... Well, he's Dean. He lives not too far from me. Not real big on hospitals, as you can see."

I snorted, but said nothing. Charlie was being unusually quiet. I turned to her, just as Benny dropped Dean unceremoniously on to the hospital bed. Her mouth was pinched into a thin line, and her brow was furrowed. I'd almost say she was worried? Who was this guy? Charlie was openly, almost obnoxiously, interested in women. I was about to ask her what was wrong, but she spoke before I could. 

"Was Sam with him, Benny?"

So, she knew him too then.

Benny frowned slightly, "Nah, Sam was with Jess he says, I called him already. He's on his way."

Charlie looked a little relieved, but not much. Benny started to restrain Dean.

"Benny, you can't-"

"Trust me, you'll thank me when he wakes up."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean Winchester, I came to find, was a very out-spoken character with a vocabulary not usually seen outside of locker rooms and kitchens. Hell, I think he would have made a sailor blush. After a very brief examination, I determined three of his ribs were indeed broken, and one or two seemed to be badly bruised. As i was palpating his abdomen, checking for possible internal bleeding, he woke with a start. Benny was right, the restraints were definitely necessary if I wanted to get anything done.

"What the fuck, man? You can't just knock people out. I'm pretty sure that's illegal! Not to mention rude, haven't even bought me a drink and you're feelin' me up."

I shrugged, focusing on my fingertips. Everything felt normal enough. I wondered where he worked out because his abs felt  _insanely_   good...

I shut the thought down immediately. No way.

"Hey, Dr. Rude-as-shit, wanna tell me when I can get out of here?"

I sighed angrily, "When you've been cleared, Mr. Winchester. And when you have a ride. I checked your pupils when you were out, and I'm fairly certain you have a concussion. We need to run some tests. No driving."

He blinked at me, silent for a moment before launching in to a stream of profanity. I rolled my eyes, tossing my gloves in to the trash as I headed toward the door. I closed the door softly behind me, though it wouldn't have mattered if I had slammed it. His voice echoed down the hall, through the thick wooden door. Benny was waiting just outside, wringing his hands nervously.

"Sorry Doc," Benny flashed a smile.

_"Spineless prick!"_

"Dean really is a good guy,"

_"Benny, you swamp-crawlin' Cajun fuck! Get me out of here!"_

I raised an eyebrow at the EMT as his cheeks started to turn a very light shade of pink. It was actually almost cute, the light flush under his beard illuminating his light blue eyes. He looked  _embarrassed_ , and rightfully so.

_"I swear to God if you don't get your ass in here Benny, I'm going to-"_

I popped the door open, maybe a bit  _too_ hard, and let it crack against the metal door-stop. Dean stopped mid-tirade, those green eyes locked on me once again. As I stared him down, I could almost see a child-like  _fear_ shadowed in his face. I blinked, and it was gone, replaced by the same scowl he'd worn before.

"Are you quite finished?" I asked. "I have a long day ahead of me, and I really don't feel like listening to you bitch the whole time."

His eyes widened, but he remained silent. We held eye contact for what felt like hours, but finally he looked away. He aimed his glare at the dark tv screen on the wall.

"Can I at least have the remote? Might as well rot my brain before you fry it in one of your machines."

I rolled my eyes, but crossed the room and placed the bed remote in to his hand. He glanced at it, flipped the tv on, and that was that. I turned away again, and just as I closed the door, I heard a soft mumble.

"Thanks Doc." 

~~

It felt like forever before I made it back to Dean's room, his CT scan results in my hand. I was surprised to look up and find not only a large, lanky man asleep on the couch, but also Charlie, perched on the side of Dean's bed. Her face lacked its usual smile, and she had her hand clenched in to a fist, like she was about to punch Dean. After that morning, I wasn't sure if I would protest or just walk away. Whatever conversation they were having, Charlie wasn't happy about it. Tense situations never were my strong point, so I focused on the papers in front of me.

"Your results came in , nothing major. Just a concussion. I'd like to tape up your broken ribs, if you'll allow it."

He opened his mouth, but Charlie answered instead, "Yes, Dean is fine with that and  _will cooperate._ " She shot him a glare.

"I'm getting real sick of my so-called friends making decisions-"

"Don't make me call Ellen, Winchester." Charlie warned.

He huffed, but didn't say anything. I raised an eyebrow at Charlie, and she just shook her head. I crossed the room, pulling on my gloves and grabbing the tape from a drawer. I waited by the bed, eyeing Dean pointedly. He sat still, his arms crossed, glaring at the wall. If it wasn't so frustrating, watching him pout would be almost  _cute._ His lower lip was just barely stuck out, I don't think he even realized he was doing it. I could just barely see the beginnings of stubble along his jaw, which was set in a stubborn line. It couldn't be comfortable, having his arms crossed over his broken ribs, but to each his own I guess. I continued to wait. He glanced up at me quickly, then to Charlie. Her glare was so intense I was amazed his head didn't catch on fire. With a loud, angry sigh, Dean dropped his arms and took off his shirt.

The smooth expanse of skin beneath was beautiful. If Dean heard my short (involuntary) intake of breath, he ignored it. He was all lean muscle and sun-tanned, light freckles scattered across his shoulders like inverted constellations. I blinked quickly and focused on the tape. Thankfully, my hands stayed steady as I taped up his ribs in record time. I turned away as soon as I could, tossing my gloves in to the trash as I exited the room.

"You're free to go, Mr. Winchester. Please try not to make any sudden moves, your body needs to heal. Take a few days, maybe a week, off and rest."

I closed the door behind me and sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

My eyes passed over the crowd of people on the dance floor. I never saw the appeal of dancing in a club. Too close, too stuffy, too....  _much_. It was Friday night, and here I was still alone at close to midnight. Meg was busy, and Balthazar had left with some random blond who looked  _dangerously_ young. My drink was mostly ice now, as I swirled it around and debated between ordering another or giving up and going home, a familiar voice cut through the shitty pop song that was playing.

"Castiel!"

I groaned slightly as Charlie slid in the seat beside me, and Benny on the other side. I tolerated her, she was my favorite co-worker, if I had to have one, but I wasn't in the mood.

"Don't look so glum, sugar plum," Charlie grinned, "The fun is about to start!"

"Fun?" I raised an eyebrow. "It's been a long shitty week and I just want to take home someone to distract me, that's all the fun I want. But, considering its late and you two have effectively killed my buzz, I'm going to call it a night."

Charlie rolled her eyes and looped her arm through my elbow, "Castiel, I have to say this and I mean it with all the affection possible: get the stick out of your ass. You need friends, everyone needs friends. We have worked together for almost a year, and this is the first time we have seen each other outside of work. You're staying here with us, and we are going to  _bond_ damn it."

"I have friends," I hated how indignant I sounded, "They're just busy."

Benny nudged my shoulder, "Just stay a bit, brother. It won't kill ya. Might even find you like us."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't answer. I let Charlie order us a round of drinks, then another, and finally felt a buzz around the third drink. The longer we sat and talked the more I found I  _did_ actually like them. Charlie was funny, and dorky, and  _smart_. She could hack in to just about anything, apparently, and had on several occasions. Benny talked about his wife, Andrea, and how they met on the ocean.

"Wait, you were on a fishing boat, and she was on a  _yacht_?" 

He laughed and nodded, downing the last of his beer. "She touched my arm and that was it, man. The fireworks. I didn't believe that soulmate mumbo jumbo until I felt it for myself. There's nothing like it, I'm telling you."

All my life I'd heard how you could tell someone was your perfect match from a touch. Some trick in evolution or some shit. Science had never been able to explain it other than something in your DNA was drawn to one other person on the planet, but it was real according to  _everyone_ who claimed to find their other half. I'd had plenty of physical contact with both men and women, and had yet to feel any sort of anything. 

Benny looked down at his watch. "Well, it's about time I got out of here."

I blinked, glancing at the clock. The numbers were fuzzy, but I could still make out it was almost 2 am. I groaned, fishing for my wallet. I felt Benny's hand on my elbow, and watched as he dropped cash on the counter before he steered Charlie towards the door.

"You get the next one, brother!"

~~

Halloween was my least favorite day to work, only because I knew the next morning would be hell. Luckily, it fell on a Friday this year and I didn't work Saturdays.  Charlie, Benny and I were seated at the bar, as had become our Friday ritual. Charlie apparently loved Halloween, and had taken the opportunity to dress as Hermione. The bar was full of people in costume, some more elaborate then any adult should wear.

"How are you still boring on Halloween?" Charlie teased.

I shrugged, "I've never seen the appeal in dressing up. So, a mask it is. You didn't go into detail about what you expected of me."

"Yes, but a  _Zorro mask_ is not a costume! It's just lazy."

"Whatever," she waved her hand, "It's almost time to go."

"Go? We just got here! It's barely 9," I said.

"Not home, just somewhere else. The Roadhouse is great, and they have live music. Not like this place," Benny grinned.

A short drive later, we were seated in a booth at The Roadhouse. It was... different than the bars I was used to. It looked like it needed to be on a dirt road somewhere, not Chicago. I half expected John Wayne to come walking through the doors. Apparently, they had just been going to the other bar for me. All of their other friends were at The Roadhouse. The waitress, Jo, sat down with us as she brought our drinks. Her blond hair was escaping from its ponytail, thin wisps brushing against her neck. She was wearing a black half-shirt and green cargo shorts. There was make-up spread across her face to make it look dirty, and she seemed to have two paper cone-cups stuck under her shirt to make her chest look pointy. Weird.

"What're you supposed to be?" She asked.

"I could ask you the same question?" I replied.

"Uh, Tomb Raider, duh? In the original game she's all pointy and its funny," Jo grinned. 

I started to respond, but was cut off by the sound of a guitar. Right, Benny had mentioned live music. Off in the corner was a small stage of sorts and I smiled at the sight of the Riddler, Clark Kent, and some sort of cowboy gearing up to play.

"Hey hey everyone," the bassist aka Clark Kent said into the mic, "We are The Hunters, hope you're ready to-"

The Riddler, lead guitar, cut him off by launching in to the first song. He shot him a glare, but there was the beginning of a smile there. Something about the lanky Clark Kent seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. The Riddler started to sing, and soon my thoughts were chased away. His voice was warm and rich, and just the right amount of husky. I felt my mouth go dry watching him, and it wasn't until Charlie snapped her fingers in my face that I was able to tear my eyes away.

"Do you need some privacy?" She teased.

I felt my face flush, "Sorry, I-"

She waved her hand, cutting me off, "I'm just kidding. They're really good, and I guess they;re nice to look at if you're into that sort of thing."

I said nothing, but my eyes slid back to the band as I downed my drink. I lost track of how much I had, and most of the conversation, as I watched the band. Well, The Riddler. His outfit hugged his form in all the right places, and he seemed to lose himself in the music. His fingers flew over the neck of his guitar with ease. I wondered idly if his hands would be calloused from all the practice...

Before I knew it, I was being pulled on to the small dance floor by Charlie and Jo, towards the band. I was confused as I got closer and the music stopped. Were they done already? The Riddler stepped down and threw an arm over Charlie's shoulders, pulling her in to a sideways hug. I knew it was silly, but I felt slightly jealous. The room swayed a little, and Jo steadied me. I heard someone talking, but I was too focused on my feet to really pay attention. Someone tapped my head and I looked up, straight into the eyes of The Riddler.

"You alright?" He asked.

I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him how awesome they sounded on stage, and how I really wanted to buy him a drink and chat, maybe work off the calories from the wings we had ordered earlier. However, my mouth had a different idea.

"Be better if you took me home."

Nice. 

Charlie snorted, but he just grinned, all dimples and teeth.

He held out his hand, and I stared at it dumbly. It took a moment before I processed he was holding it out to  _me_. 

"C'mon Zorro, lemme buy you a drink."

I carefully let go of Jo's shoulders and slid my hand in to his outstretched palm... and lightening shot up my arm.


	5. Chapter 5

The noise of the bar faded away, and every nerve in my body was focused on that one point of contact. Any buzz I had felt from the alcohol was gone instantly. If I had to imagine what it felt like to be electrocuted  _and_ have ice water dumped on you simultaneously, this would be it. The faint smell of engine grease and fresh cut grass hit my nose, and I swear I tasted apple pie. My eyes traveled up and met the glowing green eyes under the Riddler mask, which seemed to be just as shocked as I was.

_I know you._

_My heart knows you._

I felt my chest grow tight as I looked at him, perfect lips parted slightly and a light dusting of freckles across his cheeks. He blinked at me slowly, or maybe my brain just processed it slower than normal. I didn't know anymore. Everything was moving at different speeds. The Riddler looked back down at our hands, and what I could almost call  _anger_ flashed in those green eyes. He pulled his hand away like he had been burned, and the connection was gone. The world rushed back and hit me like a truck. I felt the air rush out of my lungs and I thought my knees would give out. He turned and bolted towards the doors, and was gone.

I staggered slightly, and felt a small set of hands grab my arm. I turned to see Charlie's face, worry written on it like the page of a book.

"Castiel are you-"

"Who was that?" I demanded. " _What_ was that?"

My chest felt almost  _hollow_ in his absence. I stared at the door, almost like I was willing him back in to existence. Clark Kent touched my shoulder, and I turned my face toward him, though my eyes never left the door.

"Hey, man, are you ok? What happened?"

I shook my head, "I have no idea..."

My voice sounded off to me. Did I really sound so pitiful?

I sank in to the nearest chair, dropping my head in to my hands. I blinked hard, pressing my thumbs over my eyes. I could still see glowing green in my head...

I heard a glass drop in front of me.

"Drink, brother," Benny said. 

I didn't even look at the cup, just downed the whole thing. The burn of whiskey caught me off guard, but in a good way. I felt my senses slowly going back to normal, thought there seemed to be  _something_ missing...

"You know what just happened, don't you?" I heard myself whisper.

"Yeah, I do," Benny almost sounded sad?

I looked up, surprised to see it was just the two of us at the table I chose. Charlie and Clark Kent had wandered off, huddled close together with Jo and the drummer. They kept glancing my way, a range of emotions on their faces.

"Castiel," Benny caught my attention again, "Its normal to feel over-whelmed when you've found-"

"Don't say it," I croaked. 

His eyes flashed for a moment, but it was gone soon after, "Denying won't change anything. I don't know why, but he's your-"

"Dammit, Benny, I said don't!" I slammed my hand on the table.

His mouth closed, lips pressed in to a thin line.

"I don't  _want_ this. I don't even  _believe_ in the- the  _bull shit_. I have a life, plans. Hell, I have regular fuck buddies!" I felt bad saying that about the few who kept me company most nights, but I couldn't help it.

Benny looked amused, "I can almost promise you won't be interested."

I scowled at him, "We'll see."

I got up, my chair scraping across the floor. Charlie and Clark Kent were headed in my direction, but I grabbed my trench coat from the booth we started in and ducked outside before they caught up to me. Immediately, I called Meg. It was ringing when I put the key in my ignition, and the engine started right as she answered. Meg was my go-to, we had an understanding. We had been sleeping together for years, not exclusively of course. But, she was familiar. She was  _safe_.

"What are you doing tonight?" I asked, no pleasantries.

"I'm busy, have a friend over," came the breathy reply.

"Tell them to leave," I said. "I need to let off steam and I'm in no mood for Balthazar's back talk."

She laughed, "In rare form tonight I see. Look, Clarence, I just met her this evening, but if you're determined to be all dom tonight, I could see if she'll share."

There was a muffled conversation, and within ten minutes I found myself walking up the stairs to Meg's apartment. She answered the door in a large white t-shirt, pulling me in without any hesitation. A small, dark haired girl was seated on the couch, well, more like perched. Her arms were pinned behind her in black silk cuffs, and that's the only thing she had on.

"Castiel, Ruby, Ruby, Castiel." Meg grinned as she sat next to her, pulling the t-shirt over her head.

Ruby's eyes were wide and glassy, and she leaned in to Meg's hand as she ran it down her neck. I sat in the armchair across from the couch, which I knew Meg had moved just for me. This wasn't our first time with a third person, and she knew just how to go about it. She started slowly working down Ruby's neck, trailing her fingers lightly over her skin and watching me. Ruby's eyes were on Meg, her body practically trembling under her touch. Meg finally reached between her legs, and she gasped.

"Ruby," she cooed, rubbing her fingers in a slow circle, "Look at Castiel."

Those large, dark eyes turned to me looking me up and down before closing as Meg pushed a finger inside. Her lips parted, a small gasp escaping. I felt my heart speed up, a half-hearted twitch in my jeans. I felt myself wishing those eyes were  _green..._

No.

I crossed the room in two strides, taking Meg's round face in my hands and kissing her hard. Her hands wound into my hair, and Ruby made a soft disappointed sound. I let go of Meg's face with one hand, letting the other pick up where she had left off between Ruby's legs. 

Meg smiled against my lips, "Way to make a girl feel left out."

I dropped my other hand, quickly plunging two fingers in. I didn't know Ruby like I knew Meg, so she received a somewhat gentler treatment.

As the night progressed, I grew more and more frustrated. No matter what I did, or what Meg and Ruby did to me, I couldn't get in to it. Finally, I gave up trying to participate and just settled on watching. Even then, watching Meg and Ruby did nothing for me.

I sighed, walking towards the door, "I can't, Meg. Sorry I interrupted."

She didn't look up.

I let myself out, cursing Benny, the Riddler, and anyone else I could think of. 


	6. Chapter 6

I found myself back at The Roadhouse, seated in the corner booth with the largest mug of coffee I'd ever seen, slowly growing cold under what I can only imagine was a blank stare. I hoped it was blank, I didn't need anyone to witness the chaos I felt in my brain at the moment. Benny was seated across from me, and I didn't need to look up to know the look he was giving me: pity.

"What," I said dully.

"Nothin' brother. Just tryin' to think of what to say that could help."

I snorted, "You can't. The universe said, 'Ya know what, Castiel? Fuck your plans. Have this random person that you don't know tied to you for life. Congrats.' There is no help for that, unless you can help me find him so we can sort this out."

When Benny didn't answer, I looked up. His face was a mixture of confusion and amusement, and that was worse than the pity. He waved over Charlie and Jo, Clark Kent and the drummer were nowhere in sight. It looked like Charlie had just been waiting for the chance to join us, because she was seated beside me before I could even blink. Her small arms wrapped around my neck in an awkward sideways hug. I sighed, but didn't shake her off. She somehow refused to believe that I wasn't much of a hugger, but I figured it couldn't hurt. I'd never tell her it was actually kind of nice.

"Are you done moping?" Jo asked. "The first pity coffee is free, because it usually goes untouched anyway."

"Are there a lot of pity coffees given out here?" 

She shrugged, "We get our fair share of sad, lonely individuals who need to stare into a void. Better the coffee than the stout on tap. Shit's expensive."

I rolled my eyes, but said nothing. A void would be nice right now, just fall in to the nothing and be done with the bull shit of life and predestined partners.

"He's really not that bad," Charlie sighed, "He's just a pain in the ass sometimes. And stubborn. And kinda rude. And-"

Her voice faded out. I could still hear her talking, but the words were muddled. Something was different. I glanced up, just as someone approached the table and spoke.

"Man, you're really  talkin' me up, Charlie."

He was still dressed in the obnoxious green suit of the Riddler, but the mask was gone. The area around his eyes was smudged black, like he had tried to wipe off make up and missed some. Short, sandy hair was disheveled, like he'd been running his hands through it. So, maybe he was just as unhappy about this as I was. My brain still felt muddled, I  _knew_ him from somewhere. Those too-green eyes turned to me and it clicked, right as those perfect lips parted.

"Hey, Doc."

~~

Dean, once again, proved to be difficult. Within five minutes of our friends giving us the privacy of the booth, he and I were standing inches apart. His eyes blazed with green fire and a blush was creeping up his neck. My chest felt tight, being this close, but I tried my best to ignore it.

"I don't  _have_ to do a damn thing,  _Castiel._ I don't know why you think that just because-"

"I'm telling you, Dean, that it doesn't fucking  _matter_ what we want apparently, and we might as well just accept that we are-"

"We aren't  _shit,_  but a couple of strangers," somehow, he managed to get closer.

I could make out just about every light freckle dusted across his face, and could feel the warmth radiating from him. The room seemed to glow pale green around the edges of my vision, not unlike his _eyes..._ I felt heat rising in my own cheeks, and just as I opened my mouth a felt a strong hand on my arm. I was being pulled backwards, away from Dean. As Benny pulled me away, my head became a little more clear. Clark Kent, or Dean's brother Sam as I came to find out, was pulling Dean back in a similar manner.

"Look, guys, nothing is going to just fall right in to place," Sam said.

The logical part of my brain agreed with Sam. There would have to be compromise. Yet, the louder part of my brain refused to listen. Dean had tried to say that this could be ignored, to which I had replied with the obvious, "We have to figure this out."

Of course, as I quickly learned, Dean didn't like to be told he  _had to_ do things. Great.

"I'm just saying, I tried to go engage with another person, but-"

"Oh, friggin' awesome. So you won't get mad if I go fool around? Best partnership ever," Dean sneered.

For a moment, what looked like  _hurt_ flashed across his face. I needed to get better at reading his expressions if this was ever going to work...

The thought of Dean with someone twisted in my gut. I broke out of Benny's hold and strode towards Dean without a conscious thought. I put my hand on his chest, and leaned in with every intention of telling him just how badly my experience with Meg had gone. My body, however had a different plan. As soon as my hand touched the front of his shirt, and I felt the warmth seeping through the fabric, every thought I had was silenced. Before I could even stop myself, I leaned even farther and pressed my lips to his.

For a split second, I was afraid he would push me away. His fist balled in the front of my shirt, knuckles scraping just barely against the skin of my collar bone, and then I was being pulled closer. The Roadhouse faded away, just like when I had grabbed his hand. There was nothing, just the two of us in a haze. Cinnamon and apples and a slight burn of whiskey, that's what it tasted like to kiss Dean. Again, the smell of engine grease and cut grass swirled around me, with just a hint of leather. My other hand came up and wrapped around the back of his neck seemingly of its own accord. Too soon, Dean palled back. The hazy feeling that surrounded us faded slightly, but didn't disappear completely. 

As our eyes met, both us gasping for breath, I could see that he had come to the same conclusion that I had. We were both hopelessly lost.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean and I would really need to talk about his whole "ditching" method of dealing with problems. A few moments after we broke apart, as I tried to piece together the words to ask Dean to come sit down with me, he turned on his heel and was gone. It threw all of us off, and when Sam finally reacted to go after him, his tail lights were fading down the road. The deep tire marks in the gravel of the parking lot seemed to stand out like a neon sign; he couldn't wait to get away from here, from this, from  _me._

A bitter taste rose in my throat, effectively chasing away any of the lingering apples and cinnamon sweetness from Dean's kiss. Again, my chest felt hollow in his absence. Without a word, I turned and got in to my own car, pulling out of the parking lot without a backwards glance.

~~

Monday came far too soon, and far too  _loud._ My alarm seemed to have been amplified to some ungodly octave that grated on my nerves. If I wouldn't have to retrieve it, I would have thrown it across the room. My foot knocked in to the empty liquor bottle by my bed and sent it rolling towards the door. I groaned, dropping my head in to my hands.

Did I  _need_ to work today? It was only 5 am, my shift was still 2 hours off, I had time to call in. I didn't want to face the life-sucking entity that was the Emergency room with this  _emptiness_ gnawing in my chest.

I sent a quick text to my colleague, telling her I was ill and wouldn't be in, before rolling back on to my side. I pulled my knees up towards my stomach, drew the blankets over my head, and faded back in to the sweet numbness of sleep.

~~

  _I stretched out on my back, looking up at the clear blue sky above me, the bubbling of the stream beside me blending nicely with the buzzing of the bees nearby. It would stop momentarily as the bees landed on the flowers the filled the meadow, but picked back up as they bounced from blossom to blossom. My eyes traveled to follow the bees, watching the nearly invisible rain of pollen when they rose from the flowers._

_A whisper of fabric to my left drew my attention away from the bees, I turned my head just as-_

Water poured over my face, jerking me out of my dream as I coughed and sputtered.

"What the  _fuck?_ " I yelled.

"You're not sick, Castiel, you're hungover and stubborn." Charlie's arms were crossed over her chest.

I glared at her, and just as I opened my mouth, more water poured over my head.

"Rise 'n shine, Cassie! You've got a partner to woo."

How had I not noticed my brother standing by the bed? He gave me a wide, toothy grin, tossing the now empty jug. I want to say it was coincidence that it clattered loudly on the empty bottle I had kicked earlier, but knowing Gabriel, it wasn't.

Towering over Gabriel was a very amused Sam, a small sheepish grin on his face. He gave me a weak wave also.

"Is this some kind of asshole gathering? How did you even get in? I took your key, Gabriel."

"Which was rude, by the way. I was just trying to help," Gabriel objected, "If I had known your match was a  _guy,_ it would have been a very different type of strip-"

"Sam picked the lock," Charlie cut him off, "We ran in to Gabe on the way up, turns out he was headed here anyway. So, we filled him in and Sam worked his magic and ta-da! All up to speed. Now, get up."

"Well I have no choice, my bed is soaked. You could have just woken me up like a normal person." I grumbled.

"Yeah, but that's for not telling me you found your-"

"I didn't find shit. Gabriel. Do you see anyone else here? No. He doesn't want me, nor I him. It works out."

I shoved past them, heading in to the small bathroom and locking the door behind me. Gabriel had no sense of boundaries. I brushed my now drenched hair out of my eyes, glaring at my reflection. 

"Get presentable, Cassie!" Gabriel called through the door. "We are going out to find your Romeo!"

"They both died, Gabe. Not a good example," Charlie answered.

I couldn't help but smile. As annoying as they were, they had good intentions.  I had no idea how to talk to Dean, or even where to find him for that matter. Did I want to find him? He ran from me, so obviously he wasn't too interested...

"I can feel your negativity, Pessimist Prime!" Gabriel called again, "We are going to do this one way or another!"

I sighed as I brushed my teeth. Why did the universe hate me?

When I finally exited the restroom, I shot the three of them my best glare.

"There's no point, he is uninterested, just like I am. I don't need-"

"Out-voted, little bro!" Gabriel shouted.

My protest died on my lips as Sam's phone rang, the computerized voice announcing  _Dean calling._

Gabriel's eyebrows wiggled mischievously "See? Divine intervention." 


	8. Chapter 8

Sam's pacing was making me dizzy. Even after 4 Aspirin, my head was still pounding, and his shouting wasn't helping anything.

"You're being ridiculous, Dean! I'm not saying-"

He pulled the phone away slightly, and a muffled voice could be heard on the other end. He started to place the phone back against his ear, but it beeped as the call disconnected. He stared down at his phone, mouth slightly open in shock.

"See? Uninterested." I sighed.

Try as I might, I couldn't stop the sharp stabbing pain of rejection in my chest. It was quickly followed by my anger at the situation, but it was there nonetheless. Maybe it was my karma, be a skeptic your whole life and your perfect match will be repulsed by you. Thanks, universe.

"I'm going out," I announced. "Lock up when you leave."

I bolted from the room quickly, mentally kicking myself for feeling bad in the first place. I needed air, I needed alcohol, I needed to be  _wanted._ I found myself at my favorite bar, with absolutely no memory of how I got there. I know I drove, but that was all. I downed three shots before ordering a vodka tonic, and finally turned to survey the room.

Vultures. Vultures everywhere. Women and men alike, looking for whatever carrion they could find to fill whatever void was in them, and I was no different. My hands itched to run through hair and over flesh, to feel connected to something. I felt like a balloon without a string, just floating off into the black sky. I needed to feel grounded, even if just for a little while.

"You look like you lost your puppy," came a familiar, breathy voice.

I turned, scowling in return to Meg's teasing smile. Normally, she was a welcome presence, but today she was the opposite of what I wanted.

"What do you want?" I grumbled.

She shrugged, "Same as you, a distraction I guess. What's wrong Clarence? Why have you been so weird lately?"

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my drink, not wanting to meet her eyes. How could I explain it? I'd never heard of someone being rejected by their true partner, what if I was broken in some way? What if it was a fluke, some cruel twist of fate, that I be matched to the one guy who couldn't stand to be around me?

"I'm not with mine," Meg said softly, sitting in the chair beside me.

I felt the air rush out of my lungs like I had been punched. I turned back to her, eyes wide, but she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were cast down, staring at her hands, absently spinning a small silver ring around her pinkie finger. I'd noticed that ring before, but just figured it was something pretty she had found. Was it a gift from some missing partner? How did she..?

"What happened?" I asked.

A small, bitter smile spread across her lips, "It was just too much. We tried, but the fireworks and the haze or whatever you feel like calling it, was just too overwhelming. He freaked, I freaked. He gave me this on our last date, with a promise to come back when he was ready. We were seventeen. So, almost 10 years. I've kind of given up, but I'll admit there's a small part of me that won't let go."

"How do you deal with it? I feel...."

"Empty? Yeah. I just try to push it away. It gets easier, but eventually that rubber band will snap and it comes back. Its a struggle, but you get used to it. So, you gonna tell me what happened? I just bared my soul, figuratively. Spill it."

I sighed, "Halloween. My friends dragged me out to The Roadhouse. He was in the band. He ran, I came to your place, couldn't get in to it. Went back to Roadhouse, he came back, we argued, we kissed, he ran  _again_. I got drunk all weekend, called out of work because I was hung over, got harassed by my brother, my friend, and Dean's brother. Dean called while they were there, refused to see me, and hung up on Sam. Now I'm here, drinking and trying to forget."

Meg snorted a laugh, "Wow! What a weekend! That's intense."

I scowled at her again, but said nothing. She was right, it did sound like a TV drama. She covered my hand with hers, but the smile she now wore was one of sympathy. We sat like that for a while, neither of us breaking the silence that stretched between us. It wasn't the same as before, but it was nice to feel  _something_. We both finished our drinks, and the two rounds after that, before she hopped off the chair and pulled me after her.

"C'mon Clarence, let's get out of here."

~~

It was significantly easier to let go and lose myself in Meg when I was intoxicated. We made it back to her apartment, and I found myself sheathed in her warmth before I realized it. A small, nagging part of my brain was trying to tell me this was wrong, but I pushed it away. I needed this, that little voice didn't know what it was talking about. This was good, this was  _normal_. Her small hands curled in my hair, pulling me in for a rough, wet kiss. The kiss deepened, and that little voice was back, wishing for the rough burn of stubble instead of the soft smoothness of Meg's skin.

I shut it down again, pushing every thought from my mind and losing myself in the sensations. If Meg could do it, so could I. Dean might not want me, but I refused to be alone. It was all about will-power.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is not written by me, I'll post credit at the end!

A week went by, then two, and by the third I couldn't take anymore. Try as I might, I couldn't get Dean out of my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him before we touched, smiling softly at me with that stupid Riddler outfit. A touch had ruined it all. Why? What was so wrong with me, that my supposed soul-mate would turn and run from me before he even knew me?

I threw myself in to work, avoiding Charlie as best I could. I felt like I was losing my mind. In the first few days after my night with Meg, I had felt so  _wrong_ it made me physically ill and I couldn't work. Which, of course, I knew was all in my head, but I couldn't will it away. Charlie had come pounding on my door, just like before, to tell me off for drinking away my problems, but took one look at me and wrapped me in a hug so tight I couldn't breathe. It's like she was trying to stick the broken pieces in my chest back together by sheer force alone. 

"I  _hate_ this, Charlie," I'd whispered.

Fuck. Even my voice sounded pathetic. 

"It's not what you think, Castiel. I promise. Dean's just..." She'd stopped with a heavy sigh, "Just give him time."

After that day, she seemed to know I didn't want to talk, so she gave me space. Of course, we had to talk sometimes, patients to discuss and all that, but she tried to be a good friend, and I was glad to have her. In that same sense, however, she was also  _Dean's_ friend. Seeing her, knowing she could see him and talk to him, slowly drove me insane. It was conflicting, to put it simply, seeing her. On the one hand I was happy to see my friend, but on the other I felt betrayed. Was she talking to him about me? About seeing me? Did it bother him, like it did with me, or was he indifferent?

I found myself spending a lot more time in a small supply closet, which was seeming to become my safe space. One of the night shift cleaning crew had placed a small plug-in air freshener in the one outlet the closet contained, and by the grace of God the scent was apple pie. It wasn't  _quite_ the right scent, nothing artificial could ever replicate the apple and cinnamon sweetness that had flooded my senses that night, but it was a close second. I knew I was forming a very unhealthy habit, along with the drinking that was now required for me to achieve any semblance of sleep, but I couldn't stop. It was a small bandage on the gaping, raw edges left inside my chest cavity.

On the Monday of the fourth week, I stumbled in to the locker room, bleary eyes and clutching my coffee cup like every other morning. The air of the room felt different, though I couldn't place why. Something was off. New paint? No, still the same drab gray I'd seen every weekday since I started. I glanced around, but nothing was out of place.  _What_ was I missing?

I shook it off, heading to my locker. Must be my imagination. I stared at my small combination lock, frowning. My lock was changed. The lock itself was the same, but the dials were wrong. It was the type of lock that requires the three dials to match a certain code of letters or numbers before opening, of course set by whoever owned the lock. My code was not easily guessed by any means, considering the staggering number of possible combinations it could be, and I always set all of the dials to zero before leaving for the day. Call it a quirk, if you will. Charlie called in paranoia, which I guess could be accurate. It did stem from having a nosy older brother.

Now, the dials simply read ' _C A S'_ . My hand hovered over the lock. Surely, that was intentional. I opened the locker slowly after entering my correct combination, not sure what I was expecting. A small ceramic pot was in the center of my locker, containing a small green succulent plant. I picked it up gingerly, turning it this way and that too look at the beautiful, healthy plant. Someone, whoever had left this, had one hell of a green thumb. I'd seen small plants like this before, they were very popular, but I had never seen this particular plant, nor had I seen one so _vibrant_. The pot was just barely big enough for the three clumps of the bronze green rosettes, the small pointed tips just the slightest blush of pink. I was so entranced by the shiny waxiness of the plant, I didn't see the note until I carefully put the pot down. The note was simple, scrawled in a beautiful looping script.

_Cremnosedum "Little Gem"_

_Full sun to part shade, turns red in full sun._

I turned the note over, then back again, but there was nothing else. No signature, or any indication of who left it. I picked the pot back up, cradling it in my hands. A small, brief smile flashed over my face. Someone, most likely Charlie if i had to put a name to it, was trying. I'd never really had an interest in plants, but this one was obviously important to someone, and they took the time to give it to me. I placed it back inside the locker and shut it with a sad sigh, already counting the down to the end of the day when I could get it out again. I didn't even mind pulling on the stark white lab coat, or walking in to the too-white hallway. I had something to look forward to, other pulling on my comfortable trench coat once more.

The morning was passing quickly, and it was noon before I knew it. I sat in the cafeteria, playing absently on my phone and trying not to think. The happiness from my gift earlier was fading. Charlie huffed as she flopped in to the seat across from me. I glanced up at her, but a movement by the door caught my eye. It was brief, just barely a flash, but I swear I had seen a tall, broad shouldered man in a dark jacket, that I somehow knew was soft, worn leather. Instantly, I shot across the room and in to the hall, but I couldn't find him again. There was the slightest hint of leather and engine grease in the air, but it seemed to fade as quickly as it had come. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration, cursing whatever deity was listening, and trudged back to the table feeling emptier than ever. Not even the thought of the plant waiting in my locker could bring me out of this hole. Charlie was still at the table, watching me with guarded eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"No," I sighed, "I thought I saw..."

"You did." She dropped her head in her hands. "He brought me his laptop to fix, and apparently decided to follow me. He's so  _stubborn_!" 

She paused to slam her palms flat on the table, causing the people at the tables around us to turn.

"He's just-"

I raised my hand to cut her off. "I don't want to hear about him."

 _Liar,_ whispered a voice in my head.

It was true, I wanted to hear what she was going to say, but I knew it would just continue to ruin my day. It made me feel pathetic, like a dramatic high-school student going through a first break up, but I couldn't escape it.

We ate in silence, and the trend continued for the rest of the day.

~~

As the week continued, the plants kept coming. Every day, a new succulent was in my locker, and the lock spelled ' _C A S_ '. I was running out of room on my window sills, and was considering putting in shelves in my bay window. The Little Gem plant, however, held a place of honor in the small window above my bed. It was slowly turning more red in the sun, like the note said it would.

At the end of the day on Friday, I stopped Charlie as she was about to turn in to the women's locker room.

"Would putting the plants on shelves in my bay window be okay? I don't want to over expose them."

Her eyebrows drew together. "Plants?"

"Yeah, the ones you've been putting in my locker," I tilted my head.

Her eyes flashed briefly, and a smile lit across her face, "Oh yeah, those. It should be fine, I think. Come out with us tonight, we can talk about it more."

I felt my mouth twist in to a grimace, "Charlie..."

"It'll be okay, I promise. Trust me."

"But you go to Roadhouse, where Dean-"

"Just come."

She walked off, apparently deciding for me.

~~ 

My hands shook on the steering wheel of my car as I sat parked outside of The Roadhouse. Charlie's obnoxious yellow car was parked beside me, its driver already inside. Other than Benny's truck, I didn't see any other cars I knew. My heart was racing, and I couldn't seem to get a handle on my breathing. I felt a cold sweat prickling across my forehead, and I pressed it against the coolness steering wheel.

A tap on my window drew me out of my cocoon of anxiety. I looked up in to Benny's familiar smile.

I opened the door, "I don't feel so well, Benny."

"You'll be fine, brother. C'mon, Elle makes a mean eggnog."

So, of course, I found myself seated in the back booth with a large mug of eggnog, that I swear had enough alcohol for a man twice my size. By the third, I was warm and fuzzy in my chest, where there had previously been emptiness. A guitar riff drew my attention away from whatever joke Benny was telling. My eyes found him before my brain really registered  _who_ it was. My heart twisted in a sharp stab as I looked him over, taking in every detail I could as quickly as possible and storing it away for the inevitable moment when he saw me and left.

He was as captivating as ever, hair haphazardly spiked in the front and crooked grin plastered on his face as he spoke. He wore a dark blue flannel over a black tee, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Had I been sober, I might have felt wrong, ogling him like I was, but drunk Castiel was far too gone to care. It was only Charlie's small form in the seat beside me that kept me where I was. He was talking, but I was too wrapped up in the warm velvet of his voice that the words didn't register at first. He began to play, and as the first chords floated out of the speakers, his eyes found me.

They widened slightly, and I thought I saw the slightest blush, but he didn't miss a beat. The tune was haunting, slow and sad. My heart ached, but I couldn't move.

 " _I_ _'m not strong enough to stay away_  
_Can't run from you, I just run back to you_  
_Like a moth, I'm drawn into your flame_  
_Say my name, but it's not the same_  
_You look in my eyes, I'm stripped of my pride_  
_And my soul surrenders and you bring my heart to its knees"_

He was staring at  _me_ , every word, every sad note, pointed right at me like he was aiming a cannon. I was powerless, his voice weaving around me and trapping me, pinning me to my seat.  
  
_"And it's killin' me when you're away,_  
_And I wanna leave and I wanna stay._  
_I'm so confused, so hard to choose_  
_Between the pleasure and the pain_  
_And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right_  
_Even if I try to win the fight, my heart would overrule my mind._  
_And I'm not strong enough to stay away"_

Was I wrong in thinking he didn't want me? He ran from me, that was pretty clear, wasn't it? With difficulty, I tore my eyes away from him and faced Charlie. Her smile was soft, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

The rest of the set seemed to pass in a blur, and before I knew it, it was over. The lack of music after seemed deafening. My eyes never left him though. He stepped off the stage, and glanced in my direction before turning to Sam. The brothers were speaking quickly, Dean wringing his hands in front of him and shifting from foot to foot. The drummer, Ash I'd been informed way back when. clapped Dean on the shoulder and nodded in my direction. Whatever he said caused Dean to flush and push him away. He cast one more glance at me, then at the door, and my chest throbbed with the all too familiar pain that was going to follow. He closed his eyes, and Sam grabbed his hand. It was strange, they didn't seem the hand holding type, but I saw the shine of metal in Sam's palm and realized what had happened.

_He took his keys._

The world seemed to stand still yet speed up all at once. Sam flashed me a grin, and suddenly Dean was  _there_ at the end of the table holding a beer and a water.

"Hey, Cas," he sounded nervous, "Can we talk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Not Strong Enough by Apocalyptica. Wonderful band, wonderful song. Give it a listen <3


	10. Chapter 10

My voice wouldn't cooperate with me. I wanted to talk, I wanted tell him off for causing me so much grief, but at the same time I wanted to hear everything he could possibly say. I wanted to watch his lips form every word known to man and hear how they sounded in his slightly-southern-but-not-quite accent. Most importantly, I wanted him to say my name again. 

Wait, he didn't say my name. 

He said....

"Cas?" I croaked.

Ugh, I sounded awful.

He flashed a sheepish grin, sliding in to the seat across from me and placing the water on my side of the table. "Yeah, it just kind of... I don't even know, man, a nickname?"

I understood that part, hell it was better than Cassie, which Gabriel had called me my whole life. But Cas? That had been staring me in the face every day for a week. Was Dean responsible for the plants? That would mean he had been there every day before the sun came up. Dean was looking at me now, a guarded expression on his face, and I realized he couldn't hear my internal ranting. Now I just looked insane, or stupid. Maybe those drinks were stronger than I thought...

"Have you been leaving me plants?" I blurted.

Dean's eyebrows went up, and suddenly the smile was back. It was shy, a small blush creeping up his neck, and it was so fucking  _cute_ I didn't know what to do.

"Yeah. Um, I grow them and, I don't know, I thought you might like them. But I didn't know your skill level as far as plants were concerned so I left ones that could survive without consistent attention. Not that you're incompetent or anything. Ah fuck, I'm rambling. I'm sorry." He stopped to take a large swig of his beer.

My brain was broken. I couldn't fathom how I had missed it. Why would Charlie suddenly leave me plants? I felt like an idiot. I had thought Dean didn't care, wasn't thinking of me, but obviously he had been...

"Dude, drink some water please. I've been watching you chug Elle's eggnog all night. I'm amazed you're not passed out right now."

He nudged the water toward me, and as I stared at the sweat running down on to the table, I felt the anger rise in my chest. Who the hell was this guy? The weeks of hurt and rejection and  _pain_ welled up in my throat, threatening to choke me. Here I was, drunk and drooling over the same guy that caused the pain I was trying to forget.

"Its your fault," I muttered.

I sounded small, petulant, but I didn't care. Dean said nothing, which made it worse. I glared at him, and was surprised when he visibly flinched as he met my gaze. 

"Its your fault!" I slammed my fist on to the solid wood of the table, drawing concerned glances but no one stepped closer.

"You can't just show up after all the shit you've caused, acting all concerned and adorable, and expect everything to be  _fine_." My voice was slurred, which just made me more angry. "I'm drunk so I don't have to  _feel_ you, then you just saunter in with your smiles and sad songs and completely  _wreck my life again_. You're a-"

His hands were suddenly on either side of my face, looking up at me. When had I stood up? His hands were cool, but my cheeks burned where he touched me. His eyes were wide, so sad and apologetic and  _green_. The edges of my vision were wavy, everything going out of focus but his face. I felt the anger slowly draining as he brought his face closer, out breath mingling between us.

"I'm sorry, Cas, I really am. I'm trying, let me try," he murmured.

Then he pressed those perfect lips to mine and I felt my brain detach with a jarring  _snap._


	11. Chapter 11

The kiss was soft, sweet, and over far too soon. Still, as brief as it was, once again the scent of warm apples and cinnamon swirled around me and I immediately hated myself for ever thinking the supply closet was an acceptable substitute. This was so much  _more_.

Dean's eyes searched my face, maybe checking for signs of another outburst, but I couldn't yell even if I wanted to. The language part of my mind hadn't kicked back to life yet. 

"I freaked, okay? I freaked out and I ran and I'm sorry," Dean said. 

I nodded mutely, and he smiled. 

Where had this Dean come from? Where was the loud, foul mouthed Dean from before? Granted, I liked sweet Dean much more, but in my intoxicated mind, I still wanted to argue. I wanted to yell and voice the anger and frustration and pain I'd been feeling for weeks. I wanted to throw things and get this darkness  _out of me_ , but I couldn't do that if he was going to be so damn  _agreeable._

I didn't remember how it happened, but suddenly Dean was next to me in the booth, pushing the glass of water towards me again.

"Drink, Cas."

It was odd, to say the least. People didn't usually give me orders, and if they did I never listened. I couldn't tell if the thrill that went through me was just from the alcohol, or from the low rasp of Dean's voice. I complied, taking a small sip of the cold liquid, and Dean smiled.

We sat in silence for a while, long enough for him to finish his beer and for me to drink half of my water. After a while, he rose, holding his hand out to me, much like he had on Halloween.

I stared up at him, "That's what broke everything last time."

Dean grimaced slightly, and I hated myself for causing the smile to go away. "I know, I'm sorry. I am leaving, but I want you to come with me. We can talk more in the morning."

My heart was suddenly in my throat, "M-morning?"

"Sleep, Cas, we both need it. Plus, I'm not gonna spill my guts when you're drunk. I can take you home, or you can come with me, but you're sure as hell not driving."

~~

My head felt like it was filled with cotton. Ears, mouth, throat, they were all stuffy and muted and I just wanted to curl up and  _die_...

I went to roll over, bury myself under the blankets, and shouted when I almost rolled in to the floor.

A strong arm looped around my waist, catching me at the last second, and pulling me away from the edge. I'd be lying if I'd said being pulled back against a warm, broad chest was an unwelcome feeling.

"'S too early, Cas," Dean grumbled behind me.

My chest tightened at the sound of his raspy voice, "What are you doing here?"

He breathed a laugh, "Well good morning to you, too."

 _Fuck_ , it should be illegal to sound so attractive so early in the morning. I was torn between wanting to turn around to make sure he was real, or staying where I was and just enjoying the moment while it lasted. I'd never been the little spoon before...

I settled for staying still, the strong and steady beat of Dean's heart against my shoulder blades.

"Just saying, you have a tendency to run away."

I felt him sigh, and the heartbeat sped up slightly. Curiosity got the better of me, and I sat up. The cold air washed over my back as I angled myself to look at the man stretched out so casually over my bed.

Dean Winchester in general should be illegal. 

I was in shape, but  _damn it_ if Dean wasn't cut. He looked like he'd been chiseled from marble, then last traces of a tan fading in to a pale almost cream skin tone. I was suddenly very self-conscious about physique, which had never happened before. I'd seen him shirtless in the hospital, but it was different then. The hospital sucked the color and beauty out of almost everything that walked within its stark-white halls. Then, he was a patient that needed to be treated, it was business.  _Here._ he was something else. This was private, intimate, and very deliberate.

"Why wasn't there a reaction at the hospital?" I wondered aloud.

I kicked myself mentally for not doing more research in our time apart.

Apparently, Dean had.

"The gloves." He shrugged. "From what I've been reading, it has to be skin contact."

"You read about this?"

He nodded, running a hand through his already mussed hair.

"I like to understand things, pull them apart and put them back together. See how they work. But this? I can't do that. I freaked out because it's out of my control, out of my element, and it scared the shit out of me, Cas. I never wanted to find my partner. I thought I had, a long time ago, but then she found hers and just left, just like that. Left me with a lot to deal with." He trailed off, eyes far away. 

His expression was confused, a small frown causing the skin of his forehead to pucker. 

"I'm not sad about her anymore, so that's something," he mumbled.

I didn't know what to say, so I just waited. I figured he would keep talking, and I wasn't wrong.

"If this is going to be a thing, if you want that is, we have a lot to talk about."


	12. Chapter 12

I sat back in my favorite chair as Dean fidgeted on the couch across from me. A mug of coffee sat in front of each of us, but both were untouched. Dean would reach out and touch the cup, then draw his hands away, like he just needed to touch something to ground himself. I could understand that. 

We sat in silence for a moment, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and the cup. It felt like ages before he finally started to speak.

"I don't handle change well. For the longest time it was just me an' Sammy, parents passed when we were young. We lived with Bobby and Ellen for a while, 'til I was old enough to get our own place. I met Lisa when Sammy graduated high school and we were together for a while, couple years. She ran in to this guy in the bank one day last year, the rest is history."

His mouth turned down in to a frown, confusion furrowing his brow, "Lis an' me, I thought we were the real deal. I didn't believe all that soul-mate crap. I drank for weeks, Sammy an' Ash had to stage an intervention, it was bad times. No one was allowed to say her name, or bring up those years of my life. I told myself I wouldn't go through that shit again, I'd never be the weak, hopeless mess over another person as long as I lived.  Months went on, I never got involved. One nighters here an' there, but nothing stuck. Then you walk in."

He looked up at me, and held my gaze this time. I felt my breath catch in my throat at the intensity of those eyes.

"I saw you, when I was on stage, and hoped you'd come talk to me. Then I saw you were with Charlie, and I knew you would. I didn't know it was  _you_ though, the hot doctor that I was such a dick to."

He chuckled, and I felt myself smile.

"I'm sorry about that, by the way. I ran in to Lisa's brother in a bar the night before, ran my mouth and he and his friends jumped me. Bunch of cowards. Four on one ain't fair. So I was already pissed, then Benny brought me in, knowin' I hate hospitals. But I met you, so it was alright I guess. She called that night, after I got home, tore me a new one. I didn't really care, though. It didn't hurt. I should have realized then something was up."

He shrugged, and the ripple of the corded muscle distracted me. He wasn't looking, so maybe he wouldn't notice if I stared a little. He was supposed to be my soul-mate, after all...

The sound of my own voice surprised me, like my body chose to speak while my brain was memorizing the freckles that dotted his skin.

"I don't know what to do either. I've never had a relationship. I don't know how they work."

Now it was Dean's turn to stare. He blinked slowly at me, face unreadable. It felt like ages before he spoke again.

"Is that what you want this to be?"

I snorted, "Kind of out of our hands, isn't it? We tried staying away, and it seems like you were just as miserable as I was. Maybe we just, I don't know, play it by ear?"

 Dean kept his eyes on me, unblinking and impossibly green. I felt my stomach churn under his gaze. Its like he was looking through me, down to my bones. Would it always be like this?

"Dean?"

"I think I'd like that, Cas."

~~

"You never did tell me how you wound up shirtless in my bed," I said, looking over the rim of my coffee cup. "Not that I'm complaining, but I think I would remember something like  _that."_

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, "Well, considering you were almost passed out by the time we got here, I had to basically carry you up to your apartment. Which is ridiculous, by the way. Seriously man, top floor? Why?"

I shrugged, "I like the view. You still haven't answered my question."

He sighed, looking down as a blush crept up his neck, "You fell asleep as soon as you hit the bed. I was going to go home, but you wouldn't let go of me. So I stayed. You're like a damn furnace when you sleep, I guess sometime during the night I took my shirt off."

I hummed softly and drained my cup. "You know, I've never made coffee here. My brother bought me the pot as a housewarming gift."

Dean chuckled softly, "Yeah, I could tell it didn't get much use. I'm amazed the one at my place still works. Sammy keeps trying to convince me to get a new one, but I'm attached to mine I guess. I bought it years ago, when I first moved in to my house."

"So, what do you do?"

Dean shrugged, "I'm just a mechanic. Been workin' for Bobby ever since I was old enough. I'm good at it, I told you I like to take things apart and see how they work."

"Could always see how I work."

The words were out of my mouth before I even thought them. Dean coughed into his coffee cup, and some distant part of my brain was wondering if coffee would come out of his nostrils. The rest of my brain, however, was in total chaos over the nonsense that had come from my lips. My face grew hot when I quickly dropped my gaze.

"I apologize, I don't know where that came from," I said quickly.

Dean was still slightly coughing, "Its uh, its fine man. Just, give me a sec."

Why did I say that? I mean, I knew  _why,_ but why? I had better control than that. It seemed like with Dean, my thoughts somehow made their way out without permission, sneaky bastards. 

It was going to be a long day.


	13. Chapter 13

The more I talked to Dean, the more that annoying part of brain seemed to adore him. He was funny, witty, and just all around interesting. I never thought about how  _dull_ my life was, how quiet my apartment had been, before the whirlwind of Dean Winchester tore through and left laughter in his wake. Endless stories of childhood pranks, awkward high school years, and just all around goofiness. Where had this guy been? The friendly Dean, with glittering eyes and dimpled smiles that made him look so much younger than 28. Had I met  _this_ version of Dean first, I'd be in love. I was still skeptical, still waiting for the moment he would bolt and leave me a shell once again. 

For now though, I would enjoy the time I was allowed.

"Ugh," I sat back on the couch, pulling one of the pillows over my eyes. "My face hurts. I don't think I've smiled this much since, well, ever."

"That's a damn shame, Cas," Dean chuckled. "You haven't even seen me drunk yet!"

The thought of alcohol made my stomach roll. My hangover had passed, but it was still fresh enough in my mind to keep me from drinking tonight.

"Speaking of drinking, wanna go get something to eat? Not that I mind spending the day in your empty apartment, but I need food, and your kitchen looks awfully neglected," Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not much of a cook," I admitted, "Gabriel seemed to take that skill entirely. I got all of the brains."

Dean rose to his feet, walking towards the door and grabbing his keys from the counter.

"C'mon, I'll even let you pick the music. Which Sammy will tell you is an honor. Usually, driver picks the music."

~~

A creature of habit, of course we ended up at The Roadhouse. It seemed like Ellen had a monopoly on my friends, which I assumed I'd have to get used to.

Dean ordered us both a burger and fries, apparently with his mind because no one asked him what we wanted. It just appeared.

"What if I told you I was vegan?" I asked, face blank.

It was hard to keep from laughing at the horror that washed over Dean's features. If I'd not seen him laughing, I'd think it was my favorite expression of the day. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and the color drained from his cheeks.

"Oh shit Cas! I had no idea! I'm -"

"Kidding," I grinned.

He blinked at me a few times, mouth pressed into a thin line.

"That's just wrong, man."

We ate in relative silence, but unlike the other times I'd been out with people, this wasn't awkward. It was a comfortable quiet, like on a rainy night curled up with a good book. Dean smiled at me, a soft, shy smile, and I felt my insides turn to mush. The universe had chosen well, I guess. I could look at that smile every day if I had to, and I'd be lying if I said part of me didn't want to. I felt myself smile in return, almost against my will.

"What are you doing to me?" I murmured quietly.

He winked at me, and it was my turn to choke on my drink, "Nothing, yet."


	14. Chapter 14

The day flew by, and before I knew it, it was almost over. We had returned to my apartment, sitting on the couch and talking like old friends. It was nice, bring closer to Dean, though a part of me wanted to close the small distance between us. It was like the air buzzed with faint static, like when I used to hold my hand over the TV screen as a child. We hadn't really touched at all since the night before, and that bothered me just a little. Still, I didn't want to rush anything ou push him away, so I stayed where I was.

Finally, Dean seemed to look at the clock, "Shit, it's almost midnight."

"Will you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" I joked half-heartedly.

Dean chuckled, "Well, no. But I do need to get some sleep."

There was a pause, and I was almost ashamed of the way my stomach dropped to the floor. Like he had been doing all day, Dean seemed to read my mind. He slid across the couch, pressing his thigh against my own. Even through his jeans, his leg was warm, but nowhere near as warm as the lips that pressed against my  temple. I felt myself lean towards him, not even caring how that one single touch made my insides turn to mush. 

"Can I come back tomorrow?"

~~

Time flying by seemed to be the theme where Dean was concerned. The days blended into a week, then two. The world seemed to be moving in over-drive, when all I wanted was for it to slow down. Dean had yet to stay another night since the first time, but we did spend the majority of our time together. 

It was nice, domestic even, coming home from an aggravating shift at the hospital to find Dean sitting on the hood of his car waiting for me, a pack of beer next to him. The past week had been particularly frustrating, the youth of the city were building up to a New Year's celebration by injuring themselves a regular basis.

"Man, you look beat!" Dean exclaimed, falling in to step beside me.

A small grunt was all I could manage. I was exhausted, my feet throbbing from the constant running, and I'm pretty sure there was blood in my left shoe, judging by the tacky feel of my sock. The elevator ride had never seemed so long.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, I fell forward on to the couch with a groan. I heard a chuckle from the doorway, and the sound of two bottle caps hitting the counter.

"That bad, huh?"

I mumbled in to the couch cushion, but the words were muffled. Nice, Castiel. 

Another chuckle, then the sound of brushing fabric, and a  _clunk_ of the beer bottles on the wooden table. A pair of strong, warm hands gripped my ankle, and slowly removed one shoe, then the other. One foot was significantly colder than the other after being exposed to the air, so definitely someone's fluid was trapped in the fabric of my socks. Lovely.

"Man, that is just wrong."

I turned my head just as Dean pinched a relatively clean piece of my sock between his thumb and forefinger, and peel it from my foot. I couldn't help the bubble of laughter that escaped from me as I watched him carry the offending sock like it was a fragile bomb over to the trash bin.

"You know, for a mechanic you hate getting your hands dirty."

He rolled his eyes as he returned, "I'm just not thrilled about someone else's blood on my hands. I eat with these."

"At least we will never have to worry about you being a murderer," I snorted.

Dean was quiet, his hand warm against my calf, and his thumb tracing a slow circle. I still couldn't get used to the fact that he was  _here_ , just sitting with me like it was the most natural thing in the world. I felt an overwhelming sense of longing, deep in my chest. I rolled on my side and patted the space next to me.

There was a moment of hesitation, but Dean stretched out on the couch too, our faces inches apart. We had barely touched since that night, so far far away in my memory. I didn't want to press, to push him away or into a position where he was uncomfortable, but damn it I  _craved_ him. Now he was so close, I could count the freckles that dusted across his nose, but I couldn't make myself move. I couldn't close the smallest gap between us. 

He seemed to read my mind, in that uncanny way of his. His arm circled around my waist ad pulled us closer together as his lips found mine. It was soft, and warm, lips and tongues meeting in a gentle dance. I wasn't sure who did so first, but one of us pulled the other even closer and the kisses became so much  _more_. 

The world narrowed in to heat and friction and cinnamon-coated apples. Teeth nipped at my lower lip as strong calloused hands slid under my shirt. When had that come untucked?  Fuck it, it didn't matter. I'm sure later I would feel pathetic, or at the very least embarrassed, about the moan that escaped my throat as I was rolled over and Dean settled above me, one thigh hitched over his hip, but right now I couldn't get enough. My fingers tangled in his hair and I pressed as close as I possibly could. The smallest movement of Dean's hips sent sparks up my spine. This was new for me, I was always the dominant one, even with other men, yet something about Dean made me feel  _different_. 

I wasn't too sure if I liked it. 

That is, until Dean started kissing and biting his way down my neck. As soon as I felt the scrape of stubble against my throat, I didn't care which of us was on top, I just needed more. I rolled my hips upwards, right against Dean's groin, and felt the unmistakable shape of a sizeable arousal. Something in me shied away, mostly nerves I think, but the louder part of me wanted to know what that would feel like. Dean groaned and pressed his own hips forward, grinding against me and pressing me farther into the couch. Our shirts hit the floor almost simultaneously, hands roving uninterrupted across bare skin. 

"Cas," Dean murmured against my throat, "I want you so fuckin' bad."

The last little part of me that was holding on to my reservations disappeared like smoke in the wind.

"What's stopping you?" I replied.

"Say you're mine," Dean let out a low almost growl, and I felt the world shift. I wanted him to  _make_ me his. 

I'd never wanted to belong to anyone so badly. I wanted to say it, that I was his, but my mouth apparently had other ideas. We needed to work on our communication.

"Make me."


	15. Chapter 15

I never considered needing a bigger couch until I had to share one with Dean.

As a matter of fact, there were  _a lot_ of things I never considered pre-Dean. Like not being in control. That wasn't my style at all, yet here I was letting myself be swept away in a current without a second thought. Hands, rough and strong from years of manual labor moved over me, possessive in a way I'd never experienced. Hips slid together like they were made for each other and we couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. 

The world around us narrowed to touch and taste and  _heat_...

Far too soon it seemed, I felt the building pressure reaching the breaking point. Right as I arched into his hand, I felt teeth graze up my jaw.

"Let me hear you," he panted in my ear.

His voice pushed me over the edge, spilling out between us. I could feel his release shortly after my own, his breath ragged against my throat. We stayed there a moment, letting our hearts slow and breathing return to normal. Dean lifted his head finally, his eyes bright and glowing as he smiled at me.

"Hey, Cas?" 

"Hmm?"

"You hungry?"

~~~

The Roadhouse was beginning to feel like a second home. Ellen beamed when we walked in, glancing between us and giving me a sly wink. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but the memory of Dean above me was distracting.  We sat in the back corner booth, which seemed to have Dean's name written on it. Ellen brought our drinks, but didn't sit and talk like she normally does.

"Oops," Dean chuckled as I watched Ellen walk away.

"What?" I asked, turning back to him.

"I, uh, may have left a slight mark..."

I quickly pulled my phone out, using the front camera to look at my...

"Holy shit,  _Dean!!_ "

As he cackled, I brushed my fingers gingerly over the dark purple bruise under my jaw. I'd never had a hickey before. I'd also never  _not_ been in control. Dean was a whole new world of firsts apparently, but this was not a first I wanted.

"You do realize I'm a doctor, yes? I have to work with the public, and I look like a horny teenager."

"But, a cute horny teenager. I think it looks okay, just a badge of," he shook his finger, gesturing in a circle around me, "possession. It says, ' _hands off_.' I like it."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, "Possession? Do you have jealousy issues?"

I expected a snarky response, or laughter, but was strangely met with silence. I glanced at Dean, who was staring at me with narrowed eyes, a slight smirk playing across his lips. There was something, predatory, about his grin.

"Jealous, no. Territorial, yes. What's mine is mine, and that includes you, baby."

It rolled off his tongue so easily, it was like he'd been saying it for years. I'd never been called "mine" by anyone before. Even Meg, as close to me as she was, never tried to hold on to me. It was a foreign concept to me, but the past few weeks had felt so natural. I kind of liked the idea of belonging with someone, but not necessarily  _to_ someone...

"I don't mean that in a shitty way," he said suddenly, worrying his lower lip with his teeth, "I mean.. I don't think of you as a  _possession_ but, I just... Shit. I don't know what I'm sayin' man."

Thankfully, Jo brought over two burgers and actually sat down, pushing Dean's shoulder as she did.

"So, boys, have we moved past the awkwardness? Can we all stop walking on egg shells around you?"

Dean shoved her back playfully, though his ears turned a deep red. "You've never walked on egg shells in your life."

Listening to them banter back and forth was oddly calming. I could fit here, with Dean and his found family. I could see myself doing so much with Dean, with this life, it took me by surprise. I glanced behind them, taking in the familiar surroundings of the bar and feeling the beginnings of peace washing over me. A girl sitting by the bar met my gaze and smiled, ducking her head down shyly. Normally, i would have taken the opportunity, but there wasn't the slightest interest. I guess I really was Dean's.

God help me.


End file.
